“At your office?”
“No, we’re at a friend of ours having dinner. Hold on, and I’ll get him.” I walk into the living room. “Brody, your mom wants to talk to you.”
That easy smile he’s been sporting disappears. “I’m grounded from the phone.”
“Not from speaking to your mom.” I extend my hand, but he doesn’t take it.
“I don’t want to talk to her.”
Unsure of how to handle the situation, I look at Savannah since she seems to get through to him, but she just frowns, keeping her mouth shut.
“He’s busy right now. Can I have him call you later?”
“You mean he doesn’t want to talk to me. I could hear everything.”
“Yeah… I’ll speak to him.”
We hang up, and I pocket my phone, letting it go for now. Dinner at Savannah’s isn’t the place to discuss our family shit—even though he’d probably open up to her before he would me.
While we wait for the pizzas to bake, we discuss everything Savannah wants to see in the city. She’s planning to spend the weekend playing tourist before she starts work on Monday. She has her phone out and is taking notes on everything we mention.
“Dad, you know the city better than anyone,” Brody says. “We should just show her around.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you guys to give up your weekend.”
“We’d love to,” I say, shocking the shit out of myself. I hate the city. Sure, it’s where I live and grew up, but when you live here, you rarely go anywhere. The city is overpopulated and ridiculously busy.
Her face lights up. “Really?”
“Sure. We’re not doing anything this weekend. It’ll be fun.”
“Cool. What time should we go? After the gym?” She shoots me a playful wink.
“Actually, I go jogging in Bryant Park on Saturdays. You’re more than welcome to join.”
Savannah cracks up laughing. “Jogging? I’d croak over and die. I think I’ll pass. Saturdays are for sleeping in anyway.”
“I don’t know about this.” Savannah eyes the ice as Brody takes off on his skates like a pro.
We’ve spent the weekend doing all the cliché touristy shit everyone does here in the city. We went for a walk through Central Park, visiting popular attractions like the Delacorte Theater and the Belvedere Castle. We ate dinner in Times Square and did a little shopping, and then, at Brody’s request, we went back to our place to watch a movie—Batman, with Christian Bale, of course. Savannah fell asleep halfway through it, and once it was over, and Brody went to bed, I walked her back to her place.
Today has been just as busy. After we had breakfast, we explored several of the museums, shared our favorite bakeries with her, and went up to the observatory deck of the Empire State Building. Now we’re in Bryant Park at the ice-skating rink.
If I’m honest, I was dreading playing tourist. When you live in New York, you avoid all the places we’ve visited. But from the moment we stepped out of the building and began our weekend of showing Savannah around, my tune changed. Savannah was so excited about every damn thing we showed her, I couldn’t help but enjoy myself. Her upbeat personality is contagious. She’s taken picture after picture everywhere we’ve stopped, insisting on taking pictures of Brody and me, of Brody and her, and of the three of us.
Of course when she posted a few on social media, tagging me, Lucas made it a point to message me, asking what the hell I was doing and warning me away from Savannah. “I can’t have you fucking my new CFO. My luck, you’ll break her heart, and she’ll hightail it back to Tennessee.” I messaged him back that it’s not like that, but I don’t think he believed me.
“I’m going to fall and break my body, and then I won’t be able to start work on Monday, and I’ll be fired,” she whines, making me chuckle.
“I’ve got you.” I step into the rink and turn around. “Take my hands.”
She eyes me skeptically for a second before she reaches out and intertwines her glove-covered fingers with mine.
Brody skates by with a couple of his friends he ran into when we got here, yelling for Savannah to get out here and skate.
She forces a smile and nods, then looks back at me. “I’m going to die… or break something and then die.”
“You’re not going to die.” I tug her toward me. “C’mon.”
She flies forward, her legs shaking like a baby deer. “How do you know how to skate?” she asks as I glide backward, pulling her along with me slowly.
“I played hockey growing up. Both Lucas and I did. It’s how we became friends. We went to the same school but didn’t really know each other until we were put on the same hockey team.”
Her gloved hands tremble, and I close the space between us, sliding my hands down to her waist to hold her easier. She moves her hands up to my shoulders, latching on tightly in fear of falling.
“I have you,” I murmur.
She nods, focusing on moving her feet while I focus on her—something I’ve caught myself doing several times this weekend. She’s dressed for the cold weather in a fuzzy ivory sweater and tight dark blue jeans that show off her curves. Her hair, which is down and straight, is lighter today, the blond overpowering the brown. Her eyes have a bit of makeup around them, making her blue eyes pop bright like the sky. And her lips… fuck, her lips. Because of the cold weather, she keeps reapplying some lip-gloss shit that makes her mouth look all wet and kissable—and no less than a dozen times today, I’ve had to stop myself from doing just that.
We do a lap around the rink, and since Savannah has caught on, I turn around so I can skate forward.
“Don’t let go,” she breathes, grabbing my hand.
“I won’t. I promise.”
Our eyes meet, and I look away, uncomfortable as hell at the way she’s got me feeling. I can’t remember the last time I spent an entire day with a woman, let alone a weekend—and completely enjoyed myself.
“It’s so cold.” She shivers dramatically.
“After we’re done skating, we can get some hot chocolate.”
Her blue orbs light up at the idea.
As we’re turning the bend, Brody decides to be funny and sneak up on us. “Boo!” he yells, doing a skate-by with his friends, who all laugh at his antics. Savannah jumps in shock, losing her balance, but before she can go down, I slip in behind her, wrapping my arms around her torso to steady her.
“Oh my God! You saved my life,” she says, sighing into me in relief. Her backside rubs against the front of me, and I stifle a groan, needing to get off this ice and away from her before I make a move on her—proving Lucas right. And as tempting as it is—and trust me, it is—she’s the best thing to happen to my son in a while, and I can’t risk it getting awkward if I fuck her.
“I think I’m ready for the hot chocolate now,” she says, glancing back at me.
“Sounds good.”
We skate to the side, and I help her out of the rink so we can take our skates off. Once we both have our shoes back on, she offers to return the skates while I grab us some drinks. On my way to the café, I spot the igloos, giving me an idea.